


The Cat Helps The Bat

by MaskoftheRay



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bruce and Selina have a complicated relationship, Bruce gets high on morphine, Catwoman rescues Bruce, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Injury, Maybe slightly OOC for Bruce, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Pre-Slash, SO MUCH FLUFF, Selina patched Bruce up, bruce whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 05:39:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15260604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaskoftheRay/pseuds/MaskoftheRay
Summary: While investigating a warehouse on a tip that the Penguin is laundering money there, Batman gets into a spot of trouble. While he manages to get out of it, he doesn't do so uninjured. Catwoman is on the prowl and decides to help him out.





	The Cat Helps The Bat

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of these characters, DC Comics does.

Batman groaned and stirred from where he was lying on the cold, wet ground. The raindrops on his face helped make him more alert. He tried to sit up but hissed in pain. He had at least a few broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, probably a concussion, and definitely a few slashes. He sat up again, shaking his head. Then, carefully, he stood and nearly collapsed again at the spinning in his head. Woah. That couldn’t be good. He observed his surroundings, glad that no one else was here. 

Earlier: 

Batman pulled up to the docks in the batmobile. Carefully, he left the car and headed to the warehouse to investigate. Rumor on the street was that the Penguin had his cash stashed here, waiting to be laundered. Bruce intended to investigate. He went into the warehouse, a bit surprised to find no one there. But then he saw someone— a guard. Bruce quickly grappled up to the beams on the ceiling and observed. The guard did his rounds, speaking into a handheld radio transmitter. Bruce crept along the ceiling beam until he reached a dead end. Then he grappled onto the next set of beams. 

This continued until he reached the back of the warehouse and saw the Penguin himself. To be able to hear better, Bruce silently grappled on top of a pile of crates Unfortunately for him, he didn’t realize that they weren’t stable, so when he came in swinging, they started tumbling. With a huge crash, the pile destabilized and he was suddenly buried under the enormous pile. He tried moving, to no avail. But, it seemed, someone was coming to his assistance, because the boxes suddenly started moving. Though he wished it were true, Batman knew nobody here was going to help him. 

When the crates around his head were removed, Batman was greeted with the sight of the Penguin grinning down at him. “Well, boys, looks like we’ll have to tell the Clown that Batman’s weakness is poorly stacked crates,” he said, chuckling. Bruce tried to move, but found he couldn’t. So, he tried to reach for his belt, but his hands were trapped. 

Penguin paced around him in a way that made Batman both frustrated and angry. It was his own damn fault for being so careless. And now he was about to get shot in the head by the Penguin. Great. As if sensing his thoughts, Penguin snickered again. “I’m not going to shoot you, Batman, no. I’m going to leave you here for a while so I can call all your… friends together. You see, I’m looking to retire— thanks to you, I will! Ironic, isn’t it?” he said. Bruce growled, trying again, desperately, to escape. But he couldn’t. Penguin leaned down in front of him. “See, now, we can’t have that, can we?” he said. He swung back a leg and kicked Bruce in the side of the head. Batman knew no more. 

Head pounding, Bruce jolted awake what seemed like a few hours later. He had no idea what time it was or when the Penguin would be coming back. He tried again for his belt and almost could reach it this time. With a sigh, he realized what he’d have to do. Taking a deep breath, he wrenched his shoulder out of its socket and grabbed his belt. He felt around in a few pockets until he found what he was looking for: a mini explosive. It would hopefully be powerful enough to move some of the boxes, but not injure him too much. 

He primed it, and put it in his mouth and spit it out as far as it would go. It rolled about five feet away and started blinking. He shut his eyes and protected his head as best he could. It went off and he felt the crates over him shift. Cautiously, he tried moving and found that he could. He kicked out at the surrounding crates until he could escape. He stumbled outside of the building, heading to his car when he collapsed. 

Now: 

Bruce stood again, stumbling. But he could see his car in the distance. He had to at least make it there. He fell twice more before finally making it into the car. He locked the doors before passing out again. This time, he awoke to something gently scratching at his car door. With a jolt, he realized his car door had opened when a feminine voice said, “Finally. I was worried you had actually decided to make your car secure, Bats.” He tried to push himself into a more upright position, forgetting his arm’s dislocation, which made him hiss with pain. 

Catwoman started trying to push him and in his dazed state, he mumbled, “What are you doing?” She sighed. 

“Saving your life, handsome,” she said. He shook his head, trying to push her away. 

“The car has autopilot,” he said. 

“Sure,” she agreed, renewing her efforts to shove him into the passenger’s seat, “but you won’t make it home in the shape you’re in. So, that’s why I’m driving.” 

He muttered something about her being a criminal and “no way are you driving my car” but she shushed him by poking at his ribs. 

When he yelped in pain, she said, “Yeah. I’m not driving your car because you’re the picture of health right now. Solid plan, Bats. If you’re not going to help me, then I guess I have no choice…” Suddenly, she grabbed a mini aerosol can of something and sprayed it in his face. 

“What was that?” he growled, before his head drooped forward and he went unconscious. 

Catwoman pushed the stubborn man into the passenger’s seat and said, “That was shut-up-Batman spray. Hope you like it.” Her companion just grumbled softly. She shut the door, turned the key, and sped off into the night. 

Bruce came to in a dark room, not unlike the one he had been in earlier. But this time, he seemed to be… lying on a soft bed? Yes, he was on a bed and there seemed to be a med kit nearby. He blinked, unsure of how he’d gotten here, wherever that was. “You’re awake,” said a voice out of the dark. Catwoman materialized from the shadows and Bruce tensed. She had what looked like a sponge and a glass of water. 

“Where are we?” Bruce growled, or tried to. His voice came out more like a rasp. 

“Relax, hon. We’re in my hideout,” she said gently. Bruce grunted and tried to get out of bed, but the pain in his ribs and shoulder were too much. He flopped back with a gasp. 

“How’d we get here?” he questioned, finally; he still wasn’t going to accept her help, he just wanted to know. She chuckled. 

“Well, I don’t know how you got all banged up, but, I was at the dock warehouses and I saw you come stumbling out of one. You got in your car, but when you didn’t leave, I got worried. So, I broke into your car and drove us here… while you were passed out,” she said, omitting the small detail that he’d been passed out because of her knock out gas. 

She observed him, curious to his reaction. “Hmm,” was all he said. She came forward, cautiously. He tried to get up again. She rushed forward and put a restraining hand on his chest. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked. 

“Home,” he growled. 

“No,” she said. He struggled more. 

“Well,” she sighed, “I was going to ask if you wanted help, but now you’ve given me no choice.” Before he could react, she sat on his chest and jabbed the needle full of morphine into his leg. When he realized she’d injected him with something, he sat up quicker than she thought possible, dislodging her, and stood. He only took a few steps before collapsing. She sighed, shaking her head. He stood again, and she dragged him back to the bed. 

“What was that?” he growled. 

“Just morphine. Not enough to knock you out, but enough to subdue the worst of the pain. You need to get stitched up before you bleed out and your ribs need to be bandaged. Also, your shoulder needs to be put back in place. All unpleasant. I don’t need you in anymore pain than you already are,” she explained. He growled, but didn’t try to get up again. She carefully came forward. 

Half an hour later, Selina could tell the morphine had taken effect because Batman was now sprawled on the bed, shirt off, watching her. It was cute. Actually, it was very cute, and just a tiny bit hilarious. Obviously, he’d used morphine before— and much higher doses— because while it did its job, it didn’t rob him completely of his wits. That was not to say that he was sober, oh no. The bat was very much high on meds right now. But not so much so that he couldn’t form coherent sentences or respond to questions. 

After she’d replaced his shoulder, Selina had begun to stitch his gashes. “How’d you even dislocate your shoulder and hurt yourself like this,” she grumbled. At that moment, she hadn’t realized he’d been lucid enough to be paying attention to her. So, it was with surprise that she looked up to see him clearly watching her work. He laughed. 

“I dislocated it myself. I couldn’t have reached my belt otherwise,” he said. 

She waited until she was sure he was done talking before asking, “How’d they catch you?” 

He sighed— something else he rarely did— and said, “They didn’t. I’m just an idiot… I’d heard that Penguin has stashed his to-be-laundered money there and was going to investigate. I thought the place was empty, but saw a guard. I decided to follow him to see if I could find out where they were keeping the cash. I’d been on the ceiling beams, but came to a dead end. So, I tried grappling onto a pile of crates. They were unstable, and fell over when I landed on them. I got caught underneath. Turns out, Penguin was there. He saw me and decided to call a few other criminals together instead of just killing me on the spot. Which, he probably should’ve. If Joker hasn’t managed to kill me yet, I don’t know why he thought he’d be able to even keep me trapped there.” 

“Oh,” she said, finishing her stitching. He looked at her handy work. 

“You’re good. That probably won’t scar too badly,” he said. 

Unsure of what to say, she settled with, “Thanks… and you’re about as far from being an idiot as anyone I’ve ever known.” 

“No,” he insisted, “I’m not. If I were smart, I’d kill the Joker and retire. Hell, the fact that I’m in this situation proves I’m not smart enough. You could easily call up some of the other rogues and kill me.” Selina tried not to be offended. 

“Yeah, Batman, there’s no reason at all that you’re called the ‘world’s greatest detective’ or anything. But… about the Joker… do you really think that?” she asked, curious and a little frightened at the answer. He looked away. 

“Yes. Every time I fight him and somebody dies… I think about killing him. But I can’t, because then he would win,” he said quietly. 

There was silence between them for a moment before she asked, “Why?” He looked back at her, locking eyes with her, as if begging for her understanding. 

“I don’t kill because…because that’s the thing that keeps me from being like them. It keeps me from giving into the darkness, the fear.” 

Selina frowned. “I thought you were all about the dark?” she asked. He chuckled mordantly. 

“No,” was all he said. 

“But, then, why the bat? Isn’t that a little… gothic?” He smiled. 

“Do you want to know why I chose a bat as my symbol? I was afraid of them as a kid,” he said so plainly it couldn’t be anything but the truth. Selina’s eyes widened. Batman scared of bats as a kid? It was too bad she’d never use any of this as blackmail against him— damn him— she cared too much. 

Sensing that she’d probably dug too much, and that really, given his state, it wasn’t fair to ask so many questions, she said, “I think you should rest. Then, maybe, if you’re a good little bat, I’ll let you fly away.” He grumbled. 

“There’s no way you could drive right now, mister, so you might as well recover here,” she lectured. 

He stared at her evenly for a moment, then sank back on the pillows, muttering, “fine.” With that, he closed his eyes and didn’t speak anymore. Selina sighed, thinking, if only I didn’t care so much for him, I would be able to rule Gotham with the information I’ve gotten tonight. She sighed again, shaking her head. Softie.


End file.
